


Trial and Error

by rsadelle



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Bad Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Sexual Dysfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:39:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8897566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsadelle/pseuds/rsadelle
Summary: Things are not the same when James wakes up in Medical after three months out of contact with MI6.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Content Notes:** Canon-typical injuries, brief mention of past sexual assault.
> 
> Thanks to Lake for consulting on the structure.

The hospital smell mixed with a certain variety of silence alerts James to the fact that he's in Medical when he wakes up. The last time he was conscious, he was halfway across the world, and given the painkillers they must have him on for how little of his body he can feel, he's rather surprised they could move him at all.

"James. I heard your breathing change."

James pries his eyes open to look at Eve, perfectly at ease in the chair next to his bed. There's a file open over her lap, no wrinkles in the fabric of her dress.

A croak is all that James manages to produce when he tries to speak.

Eve leans over the table next to him and pours water into a cup with a straw. Terribly embarrassing to need the straw, but it wets his mouth and throat enough to talk.

"What happened?"

"You blew up a building," Eve says. "Local rescue personnel kept you alive, and M arranged to have you transported back to MI6 as soon as possible. They've been keeping you sedated."

That lines up with what James remembers and can surmise from his condition and location, which leaves only one other important question. "Q?"

"Probably on his way down here now that you're awake." There's an uncharacteristic moment of hesitation before she says, "You should prepare yourself. He's lost nearly a stone."

That can't be right. Perhaps James has suffered more injury than he thought. "He didn't have a stone to lose."

"No," Eve agrees, "and yet." She hesitates again. There's something there James isn't getting, or is still too drugged to figure out.

Whatever she was going to say or not say becomes a moot point when Q says, "James," and all of James's attention gets redirected to him.

The relief he feels at seeing Q is less of a surprise than it might have been had he not been surprised by how much he missed Q once he went off the grid. For all that he's relieved, Q truly does look terrible. In addition to the loss of nearly a stone that Eve mentioned, he's paler than ever, he has dark circles under his eyes, and even his hair is lank and tired looking. James is fully aware that Q has the capacity to be an extremely dangerous man, and yet in the moment all he wants to do is protect him. That's probably why what comes out when he speaks isn't Q's name but rather, "Sweetheart."

Q trembles, slightly but visibly, and comes to the edge of James's bed. "I see you've once again managed not to die."

"Yes," James says. "The belt buckle was very helpful." He shifts toward the other side of the bed. Moving is painful, but he's suffered more for less. "Get in."

Q leans toward him, but doesn't join him, "You're injured."

"He's a big, strong agent," Eve says. "He can take it." Eve seems to be familiar enough with his injuries that she can know that for sure.

Q hesitates until James starts pushing himself up to go to Q instead.

"Very well, don't move." Q climbs into the bed and settles at James's side. He's terrifyingly slight; James can feel the knobs of his spine as he strokes down his back.

Eve gathers up her file and closes the door on her way out of the room.

James doesn't think Q is crying, exactly, but he shudders against James. James runs his hand up and down Q's back, kisses his temple where he can reach it without moving too much, and resists the urge to utter platitudes as it is obviously very much not okay.

Q sleeps for a good twelve hours. Eve comes back shortly after Q falls asleep to take his shoes off and drape a blanket over him.

"I presume he's off shift," James says.

"You got him to sleep," she replies. "If you can get him to eat as well, M and Medical will keep him off shift as long as you like."

James sleeps for much of the time Q does. He wakes when a doctor comes by, and doesn't when someone, most likely Eve - his subconscious would recognize her footsteps as safe - leaves a change for clothes for Q.

Q wakes by first rubbing his face into James's neck, and then groaning. "How long have I been asleep? I need a shower. I need to check in." He pushes himself up and ends up kneeling on the bed next to James.

James rests a hand on Q's knee. "Surely you didn't come up here without some sort of electronic device."

Q blinks at him, then stretches across him for his glasses before patting down his pockets and pulling out a phone. He blinks at it, and then at James. "I've been asleep for twelve hours?"

"Yes." James rubs his thumb against Q's knee. "There's a change of clothes. We could both stand to shower."

One of the nurses comes in at the tail end of that sentence and says, "Sponge baths only for you."

A glance at Q's face suggests it best that James refrain from a flirtatious rejoinder.

Q climbs off the bed and picks up the bag containing his change of clothes.

"Through there, dear." The nurse points him toward the bathroom attached to James's room.

Q disappears through the door clutching his bag and mobile, leaving James to the nurse's tender mercies. The sponge bath doesn't do enough to make him feel truly clean, but it's an improvement.

Q doesn't emerge from the bathroom until the nurse has left with a promise to bring breakfast. Q has the bag hooked over his shoulder and both hands on his mobile.

"You're not running out on me, are you?" James asks.

Q looks from him to the door to his mobile. "Q Branch-"

"They'll be fine without you for a bit longer." James presses the button that brings the head of the bed up so he can reach an approximately seated posture. "Have breakfast with me at least."

Q wavers.

James says, "Please," and that's enough to get Q to put the bag down and sit next to James on the bed, although he remains glued to his mobile until the nurse brings them breakfast.

"Don't let him eat yours," she admonishes Q, which is a pity because Q's full English looks eminently more appealing than James's bowl of porridge. "We'll see how you do with that," she tells James, "and then we'll see if you can have something else."

"I know what you're doing," Q says. He puts his mobile down on the rolling table the nurse put their breakfasts on, face up with some sort of monitoring program running. "You're trying to get me to eat and sleep like everyone else has."

James puts his arm around Q and rests his chin on Q's shoulder. "You seem as if you could use it," he says carefully. There's definitely something he's missing. "I could certainly use the company."

Q gives him a sharp look, and James does his best not to look the least bit manipulative.

Q ultimately relents, and eats half the breakfast the nurse brought him while occasionally pausing to do something with his mobile. It's a worrying development given the way James has seen him plow through that size breakfast before and still have it in him to steal bites from James's plate.

It takes James nearly as long to finish his bowl of porridge; just that takes rather a lot of effort given the generalized damage he's recovering from.

"I do have to go," Q says when he's abandoned his food. He pushes the rolling table away where James can't get at it.

"Come back later," James says. "Stay the night, at least."

"James," Q says, and it sounds like the beginning of a protest.

"Go home and tend to the cats first," James says. "Medical is a lonely place to be." It's a little bit true, and more a way to get Q to say yes.

Q gets out of bed and picks up his bag. "I'll see you later."

It's not exactly an agreement, but it's close enough that James doesn't try to extract more of a promise.

The nurse comes back, after Q leaves, and a Dr. Taylor, and James gets poked and prodded more than he would like. He sleeps for a while, despite the full night's sleep before, and gets a visit from M late in the morning.

M is there for a report, which James gives in as much useful detail as he can recall. The end, after he blew up the building, is a bit fuzzy, but the rest is still clear in his mind.

"Next time," M says, "stay on your comms, and don't blow up anything unnecessary."

"I rather think this counts," James says.

"You're not the one trying to explain it to a governmental committee." M stands up to leave, which means he's the one seriously misjudging how done they are with this conversation.

"What happened to Q while I was gone?"

"I came here to get a report," M says, "not to give one."

"What happened?"

"007-"

James raises his voice, which he doesn't think is unwarranted in the least. "What happened to Q while I was gone?"

M frowns, and then sits down. "Two weeks after you went dark, Q was taken. It took us four days to find him."

Two weeks after James went dark. Three months ago. Four days someone had Q. James's fingers itch for a weapon.

"The people who took him?"

"All dead. Q has a security detail any time he leaves the building."

A pity James can't go after them himself, but good that they can't hurt Q again.

"I might have told you," M says, "if you hadn't turned off your comms. I'll have someone bring you the file." He nods at James. "It's good that you got him to sleep and eat."

It takes another hour before Eve shows up with a tablet and a takeaway container, just as one of the nurses brings James soup and very soft bread.

"Eat first," Eve advises. "You might not want to after you read this."

James slowly makes his way through the bowl of bland soup. Eve hands over the tablet when he's done.

"Not a paper file?" What he means is that any access to an MI6 file on MI6 equipment is going to leave traces Q will know about.

Eve shrugs. "There's surveillance in here anyway. May as well make it easy for him to know what you've read."

She stays while James pages through the file on the tablet. The description is bad enough, but there are pictures to go with it: cuts, bruises, and burns across Q's skin. They hadn't broken bones, yet, were still trying to get him to do what they wanted. Reading about the death of the people who hurt Q and those who arranged to have him hurt is not as viscerally satisfying as killing them himself would have been. James memorizes the names anyway, in case there turn out to be other connections later.

James hands the tablet back to Eve when he's finished reading, and gives her a nod in thanks.

She nods back and leaves him alone to sleep for most of the afternoon.

James is still alone for dinner, but Q comes to his room later in the evening and hovers in the doorway. He has a bag over one shoulder and a tablet clutched to his chest.

"Are you coming to bed?"

Q's mouth forms an unhappy line. "Do you still want me to?"

James struggles against his body's aches to sit up. "Sweetheart," he says, "come to bed."

Q comes into the room, letting the door fall closed behind him, but sits in the chair. He holds up a phone. "Any objections to turning off the surveillance?"

When James says, "No," Q does what he needs to do with the phone and then tucks it into a pocket.

"I'm not fragile."

He looks it, underweight, more than just the dark circles under his eyes making him look tired. James knows better than to say so.

He settles on, "Rather difficult to do damage in your pajamas if you never put them on."

Q's laugh is barely there, but it's enough that James grins at him and relaxes a bit.

"These are for you." Q puts a tablet and mobile on the table. "No access to MI6 servers while you're recovering, but there are games, access to a library and a Netflix account, and the cat cam."

James's eyebrows go up at the last. The cat cam is a camera in Q's flat pointed at the cat tree his cats adore. James has seen it, leaning over Q's shoulder on a late evening in Q Branch. As far as he knows, this is the first time anyone other than Q has had access to the app.

"Thank you."

Q nods. "I know you read the file." He doesn't look at James. "I don't want to talk about it."

"We needn't talk about anything you don't want to," James says softly.

Q nods again, and stands without looking at James. He doesn't choose the door to the hallway, at least, but the one to the bathroom.

James sets the phone and tablet aside and lies down, making himself as comfortable as a hospital bed and his aching body will let him get.

Q comes out of the bathroom in pajamas - soft looking flannel - and slippers. He puts his phone and glasses next to James's phone and tablet. He hesitates there, looking fragile and vulnerable, his pajamas too large for him now, his collarbones showing in sharp relief, his face unprotected by his glasses.

"Come to bed," James says softly.

Q gets into bed then, curling close so they're touching everywhere they can without Q putting too much pressure on James's still healing body. James wraps his arms around Q as best he can, and Q heaves out a sigh and finally relaxes.

*

Q sleeps with James in Medical at night, stays for breakfast, comes for dinner every three or four days, and turns off the surveillance when he's there. James spends his days sleeping more than he would prefer - his healing body tires easily - snarling at the doctors and physiotherapists when needed, and entertaining himself with the things on the tablet Q brought him.

The Netflix account on his tablet had a queue, and Q comes in one evening while James is watching the first Harry Potter movie.

Q comes over to see what he's watching and grins at him, the most he's looked like his old self since James got back. "We'll get you caught up on pop culture yet."

"You did set me the curriculum."

"That I did." Q leans over and kisses James.

It's the first time they've kissed since James has been back. James forgets all about the children and their magic on his tablet screen and puts his hand on the back of Q's head to hold him there for a longer kiss, and another one.

There's a little more color in Q's cheeks after, and if James were sure his body would cooperate, he would try for more than just the kiss.

"You're neglecting your studies," Q says. He rewinds the movie to where it was when he came in and takes his bag into the bathroom. He gets into bed when he's in his pajamas, and James puts an arm around his shoulders to hold him close while they watch the rest of the movie.

James wouldn't have expected it, but Q starts coming for lunch on occasion after that, and he takes to arriving earlier most evenings to curl close to James and watch something on his pop culture education playlist with him.

On one of those nights, after they've turned the lights out and they're curled together listening to each other breathe, Q says, "I was scared. When I was taken."

James gently runs his hand up and down Q's back to let him know he's listening and tries not to tense up otherwise.

"I was bloody well _terrified_. And I was angry. At them, of course, and at myself for getting taken." Q takes a shaky breath. "I was furious with you, that you had to be off comms and you weren't here to come get me."

James would have, if he could have, but Q knows that. He exchanges a confidence for a confidence instead. "I missed you terribly when I went off comms." James holds Q as close as he can. "I know your mobile number. I knew I couldn't use it."

Q says, "James," with a soft little sigh.

James finds Q's mouth with his, and they trade soft kisses in the dark.

*

Two weeks in Medical leaves James itching to get out, and he submits to Dr. Taylor's examination with ill grace. He eyes the man with suspicion when instead of leaving, Dr. Taylor sits down in the chair next to James's bed.

"I'd like to turn off surveillance in here," Dr. Taylor says with his hand poised over his tablet.

James holds up a hand to stop him and picks up his mobile.

"007," Q says when he answers the phone.

"Q. Dr. Taylor would like to turn off my surveillance." James holds Dr. Taylor's gaze. "I imagine we're about to have some sort of horribly embarrassing personal conversation."

Q is silent for a moment. Then he says, "Five minutes and the hallway surveillance stays on."

"Five minutes," James agrees. He hangs up and gestures at Dr. Taylor to get on with it.

"If you want to leave now, we won't restrain or sedate you," Dr. Taylor says. "Medically, I recommend that you stay another week." He leans forward. "I'd like to ask you to stay for at least a few more days. Q has slept every night you've been here, and he's gained back at least a kilo."

James thinks it's closer to two, but he wasn't aware enough when he first woke up to be sure.

"It's possible he'll continue to gain weight and sleep if you go home, but I'd prefer you to stay and see if we can get a few more meals into him and reduce his sleep debt."

"You think he's eating and sleeping because I'm here," James says.

"In part," Dr. Taylor says. "There are some confidentiality issues here, of course."

James thinks back to Q's confession in the dark of how afraid he'd been. "Ah. Psych thinks he feels safer sleeping inside MI6."

"I couldn't possibly comment on that," Dr. Taylor says.

"Of course not," James agrees.

"I see we understand each other." Dr. Taylor stands. "I'll turn the surveillance back on, and I'll check on you tomorrow if you're still here."

*

James lasts another four days in Medical. He estimates Q's weight gain is over two kilos by then, and there is only so long James is willing to be cooped up.

"I'm leaving Medical today," he tells Q over breakfast. They both get real food now, and Q usually eats most of his share. "I'd rather finish recuperating at yours than mine."

Q puts down his toast and grabs for his bag. "Here." He hands James a keycard. "I have a spare in my desk. New security system since you were last there. Palm print, voice print - just say your name - and retinal scan."

"All right." James tucks the keycard away with his tablet. He puts his arm around Q and presses a kiss to his temple. "You'll come home for dinner?"

Q leans against him. "Yes. The cats will be delighted to see you. Don't overfeed them."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Q kisses him before he leaves for Q Branch, soft and open and more serious than seems necessary for a morning goodbye kiss.

James watches him go, then summons an orderly to get him some real clothes. The MI6-issued workout gear the orderly comes up with is good enough. He commandeers an MI6 car and driver to take him to his flat to pack a bag and then to Q's.

Apart from the upgraded security system, not much has changed. The emptiness of the kitchen cupboards is somewhat worrisome. James stashes his clothes in the bedroom, places a grocery order, and pets the cats into an ecstasy of purring while he waits for the groceries to be delivered.

By the time he unpacks the groceries, his still healing body is demanding a rest, and he collapses into Q's bed - so much more comfortable than the one in Medical - and sleeps for most of the afternoon.

James takes a shower when he wakes up, and puts on his own clothes, albeit casual ones. It's a relief to finally feel truly clean and more like himself.

Q comes home when James is halfway through making dinner.

James calls out, "In here," so Q will know for sure it's only him in the flat.

"You're cooking," Q says when he comes into the kitchen.

"Yes." James turns around, and Q looks so drawn that James puts the spoon in his hand down.

Q meets him halfway, and leans hard into James. They're nearly of a height, but Q, who usually carries himself upright and tall, slouches into James so his forehead and the frame of his glasses press into James's neck.

"I need to tell you something," Q says, "about sex and when I was taken."

James goes cold all over. The file didn't say Q had been raped, but he could have left it out of his report; James always has.

"All right," he says carefully.

Q presses more of his face into James's neck, so his words are half-muffled when he says, "I haven't been able to maintain an erection. I can get hard, but I can't stay that way, and I can't come."

James nearly laughs with relief. Instead, he presses his lips to the top of Q's head. "Lucky for you, I have quite a lot of practice maintaining your erections. We'll figure it out."

Q sighs and turns his head so it's resting on James's shoulder. "I googled. The lack of food and sleep could be contributing to it."

"Then we'll start there," James says. "I'm hardly in a fit state for anything more strenuous at the moment anyhow."

Q doesn't quite chuckle. He kisses James, lightly, and lets go so James can finish making dinner.

*

James times his physiotherapy appointments and mandatory check-ins with Medical so he can meet Q for lunch. He makes sure they eat breakfast in the morning before Q leaves for MI6. He cooks most evenings, and procures take-away or reservations when he doesn't.

At night, Q curls close to James. He sleeps all the way through most nights, and James soothes him back to sleep when his nightmares wake them both up.

"You're making good progress," Dr. Taylor says.

It feels slow to James, his body not obeying his wishes for far too long for him to feel fully comfortable, or fully safe. Still, it does get better.

When he feels better enough, he shuts the cats out of the bedroom on an afternoon when he knows Q won't be coming home early and stretches out on the bed. He touches himself slowly, running his fingers up and down his chest, his thighs, waiting for his prick to start to fill before he wraps his hand around it.

Christ, it feels good, pure pleasure running through him at the touch. He doesn't even need to think about anything other than the feeling, but he does, thinks about women he's known, their soft skin and perfectly curved breasts, thinks about Q, the arch of his body when he writhes under James and the O of his lips around James's cock.

James slows his hand down, trying to make it last, reveling in feeling nothing but pleasure for the first time since his last mission. It's too good, though, been too long, and he wants too much. He reaches his other hand down to cradle his balls, and there's no stopping it now, the tidal wave of pleasure crashing over and through him and leaving him gasping, fingers and stomach wet with come.

He lies in bed, letting the pleasure drain off slowly, letting himself drowse in it.

Eventually, he gets up, cleans up, dresses. He has dinner ready when Q gets home. Q looks drawn and tired, and James holds him for long minutes, kisses him with the pure sweetness left now that he's burned off his lust.

"Bad day?"

Q rests his forehead against James's. "Budget meetings."

James kisses his temple. "I'm glad for any day that budget meanings are your worst danger."

Q steps away. "Is that dinner?"

"Yes." James puts his hand on Q's shoulder, unwilling to give up contact that easily when he's clearly upset Q. "Do you want to change first?"

Q shakes his head. "I want to eat, and then go to bed."

James slides his hand down Q's arm. "Whatever you want, sweetheart." He lifts Q's hand to his lips, then uses their joined hands to pull Q to the table where he pushes Q into a chair and serves dinner.

Q stays subdued over dinner, his weariness clearly dragging on him.

James takes Q's plate from him when Q tries to take it to the kitchen. He leans in to press his lips against Q's forehead. "Go to bed, sweetheart. I'll take care of this."

Q tips his head up and catches James in a slow, soft kiss. "Come to bed soon."

James does, only lingering in the kitchen long enough to wash the dishes before joining Q in bed.

Q, sleepy but not asleep, shifts to curl against James's chest. "I didn't ask what you did today."

"More rehab," James answers. It's true enough.

Q pats his chest. "Are you getting better?"

"Yes." James's body, at least, won't be a problem in Q's bed.

*

James wanks in the shower, or in bed when Q isn't home. It feels so much better than the other exercises designed to get his body back in working order.

It's over a week before Q comes home late on a Friday night, late enough that he's already eaten at MI6, and all but collapses into bed with James, who woke up when the door to the flat opened and didn't get up once he was sure it was Q opening it.

"Long day?"

"The longest." Q shifts a bit against the mattress before coming to a rest against James. "Don't have to go in tomorrow, or Sunday if I'm lucky."

James starts planning then, but outwardly, he only kisses Q's temple and falls asleep with him. He leaves Q to sleep late in the morning, and lets him get an easy start to his day. It's nearing noon when James joins him on the sofa and leans in to kiss Q's neck.

"Do you have plans for today?"

Q curves into James. "Nothing set."

James presses his lips to Q's neck and drapes an arm over him. "Fancy seeing how well I can maintain your erection?"

The stiffening of Q's body isn't the sort James is looking forward to. With anyone else, he would push. With Q, he stills the hand creeping down Q's chest and waits.

Q lets out his breath in a quiet whoosh and relaxes a little. "I suppose."

James kisses his way up Q's neck. "I'm proposing to give you an orgasm. You might sound more pleased about it."

Q turns and frowns at him. "I'm not sure-"

James cuts him off, taking advantage of his open mouth to kiss him deeply. "I'm perfectly sure I'd like to put my hand on your prick."

The kiss softened Q, so that there's the hint of laughter in his look. "Just your hand?"

"Mmm, or other things," James agrees, kissing his way down Q's neck this time. He slides his fingers up under the hem of Q's shirt as he nudges the collar down to continue his trail of kisses.

Q puts his hands over James's and leans a little away from him. "There are scars."

James spends a fruitless moment absolutely infuriated that the people who hurt Q are already dead so he can't kill them, and then tamps it down. "I know."

Q looks over James's shoulder, not meeting his eyes. "I'm not- My body isn't the same."

James takes one hand out from under Q's shirt, uses it to guide Q's hand under his own shirt, to where there's a still healing mottled patch of skin from the explosion. "Neither is mine."

Q's fingers rest lightly on James's forming scars. He takes a shuddering breath, then stops touching James altogether to strip off his shirt.

There are scars. James saw the pictures of Q's body when they were new and read the report. That overlays what he can see now, pink lines where they cut him, patches shiny with new skin where they burned him. The bruises have long faded. The stiffness of his body is the same as in the pictures.

The last is something James can do something about. He runs his fingers down Q's chest, not lingering on any of the scars, keeping it light.

"Does any of it still hurt?"

"The skin over these," Q ghosts his hand over the burns, "is a little thin."

James nods, then returns to kissing his way down from Q's neck. He keeps his touch soft over the burns and otherwise makes no distinction between scarred skin and smooth.

The visible tension in Q's body bleeds away as James goes, until he's slumped into the sofa, breath starting to come heavier as James gets closer to the waistband of his trousers. James puts a hand there, and lower.

Q's prick is half-hard under his hand. Not the full hardness James used to get out of him for less work before, but a good start.

"Getting hard is the part I can manage if I put effort into it," Q says.

"Let's see if I can keep you there." James unbuttons and unzips Q's trousers, and Q helps by lifting his hips so James can pull trousers and pants off together.

He takes Q's prick in his hand. He's stroked Q to hardness before, and he knows how to best go about it. He strokes him slowly, long pulls from root to tip, letting Q feel it all the way, feeling for himself the way Q's prick slowly fills to a weight that fills his hand.

James presses his mouth to Q's stomach, his hip bone. "Good?"

"Yes." Q's hand curves, warm and solid, around James's cheek. "Keep going."

James nips at Q's skin, still too thin with too little under it. "I fully intend to." He kisses gently over the spot he bit, and then moves his mouth to Q's prick.

He starts with a kiss to the tip that makes Q gasp. James doesn't bother to hold back his smirk. He presses dry kisses all the way down Q's cock. Q's balls get a brush of James's lips too before James licks all the way up the underside of Q's cock to the tip.

"James." Q's fingers try and fail to to find purchase in James's short hair. "That feels so good."

James pauses to look up. Q still has his glasses on, pupils wide behind them, uneven flush across his chest.

James takes the tip of Q's prick into his mouth. He sucks lightly, then harder, then lets Q's prick go. He licks down Q's cock, up again, around and across the head.

Q lets out a breathy, "Oh," when James licks at the fluid beading at the tip of his cock.

James sucks at the head of Q's cock, not taking him deeper, and then pulls off and wraps his hand around it. He strokes Q's cock while he leans up to kiss his mouth.

Q holds James there with long fingers curved over his jaw. His cock stays hard while James keeps his hand moving in a slow, steady rhythm, and kisses Q so deeply he feels as if they might merge together into one person.

There's a thud, and a clatter, from behind James. Q freezes, every muscle held tight and still below James. His cock goes soft in James's hand.

James turns to look, and watches Whiskers stalk away from a knocked over pile of action figures with all the affronted dignity of a cat making it clear he meant to do that.

James lets go of Q's prick and runs both hands up and down Q's arms. "Just the cats."

Q shudders, fine tremors wracking his body and his eyes too wide with fear now instead of lust. He bends his head to rest his forehead against James's shoulder. "Now you see."

James strokes Q's back with light touches. "Perfectly understandable." He tips Q's head up and kisses him softly. "Shall we try the bedroom? We'll shut the cats out here."

Q nods, not looking at all certain.

James stands, and starts unbuttoning his shirt, which nets him the expected look of interest from Q. "Come on then." He lets the shirt drop to the floor halfway to the bedroom and subtly flexes his shoulders and arms as he walks the rest of the way. It works to get Q to follow him, and James lets Q go ahead of him into the room so James can shut the door with the cats on the other side of it.

James waves Q to the bed and takes off his trousers and pants before joining him. Q's taken off his glasses, and he reaches for James when he settles over Q. His hands run up and down James's chest, over his shoulders and down his back.

James is hard between them, Q soft, and James sets to changing that. He rubs himself against Q, kisses him with gentle kisses and biting ones, puts his hand between them and around Q's prick. He strokes, trying to encourage it back to hardness.

Q kisses him back, and returns the favor, not that James needs any help in that department, but his cock remains soft.

Q tips his head back, and the stretch of his neck would be a welcome sight in any other circumstance. Now, though, he closes his eyes, and says, "I don't think this is going to work."

James lets go of Q's prick in favor of running a soothing hand over his hip. "I could suck you."

Q shakes his head. "No. I don't think that will work."

"Lost the mood?"

Q nods, eyes still held closed, like he doesn't want to look at James as he admits it.

James kisses his neck, the underside of his jaw. "All right, sweetheart." He nuzzles at Q's cheek. "We'll try again another time."

Q rolls away from him and out of bed. He waves a hand at James when James starts to get up with him. "You can." He makes another hand gesture.

James watches him walk away, taking some enjoyment out of the view of Q's arse, until Q leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

Wanking seems a bit inconsiderate under the circumstances, but James is still hard and Q did tell him to, if not in so many words.

James doesn't linger over it. The good parts, before Whiskers interrupted, were good enough to fuel James's lust, and his hand does the rest. It's a rather perfunctory orgasm, for all that it feels good. He cleans up and redresses on his way to join Q in the rest of the flat.

James is still buttoning his shirt when he reaches the main room of the flat. Q's on the sofa, shoulders tight and fingers not moving on the keyboard of his laptop.

James walks wide around him and picks up the action figures Whiskers knocked down. Then he retrieves the book he's been reading from where he left it on one of the shelves and sits in the chair that corners the couch to read.

He's halfway through the next chapter before Q starts typing.

*

James tries again on Sunday. After a late breakfast, he wraps his arms around Q and asks, "Care to come to bed with me?" He presses his smile to Q's cheek. "We'll leave the cats out here."

Q stills for a moment before he acquiesces. "I'm game."

James has a smart remark on the tip of his tongue for that, but he doesn't want to test if it's too soon to make hunter and prey jokes when he's trying to get Q into bed. "Let's have a go at it then," he says instead.

They check to be sure the cats are otherwise occupied before they close themselves into the bedroom.

James takes a different approach this time. He begins by holding Q against him, kissing him deeply while running his hands lightly over Q's clothed body until Q softens in his arms and kisses him back just as eagerly.

It's Q who reaches for James's shirt first. James lets him draw it off of him, lets him run his fingers over his torso, pausing at the newer scars.

James cups Q's cheek to break his concentration. "Alright?"

Q turns his head and kisses James's palm. "Yes."

"Good," James says, "because I'd like the chance to get your clothes off too."

Q chuckles, not the bright laugh he might have given James before, but more amused than he has been, and guides James's hands to his shirt.

Disrobing Q is something James may never get tired of doing, and even better when it's matched by Q doing the same to him. He drops kisses onto Q's skin as he goes, runs his fingers lightly over Q's body.

By the time they're naked, James is hard and Q is well on his way to being so.

James pulls Q close, skin to skin, and kisses him.

Q winds his arms around James's neck and participates with a level of enthusiasm that gives James hope for the rest of their encounter.

James runs his hands down Q's back to cup his arse and encourage the movement of Q's hips against his. Q arches into it and drops his head to nip at James's shoulder, one of the things he likes to do when they're naked.

James does one of the things he likes to do and runs his hand around Q's hip to take his cock in hand. It forces space between their bodies, and they both look down at James's hand stroking up and down Q's cock.

James has to close his eyes when Q returns the touch. Q's hand strong and familiar around him, so long since they've done this, since he's had Q's hand around his cock. James is going to need all his stamina to make it through this without coming far too soon.

James walks them slowly toward the bed, no sudden movements to startle Q. They ease down onto it, James using his strength to make sure it's slow, gentle, that they're on their sides pressing together when they're down on it.

They keep touching, kissing, everything soft and slow, like they have all the time in the world.

James can feel his pleasure building, the feeling of skin against skin something he's missed. Q stays hard, stays with him, touching and kissing him, letting out little gasps and moans when James does something he likes.

It builds and builds and builds, and James feels like he's clinging to the edge of a cliff with his fingernails, so close to falling over.

Q's cock starts to soften. His eyes close, and the pleasure on his face turns into something bitter. He turns his head to the side. "I'm sorry."

James bites back his instinctive furious anger that it didn't work, that he's not going to get to come with Q. He kisses Q softly instead, lets go of his cock but stays close. "No need to apologize."

The set of Q's mouth says he doesn't believe that, but he nods at James. He gets out of bed, even though James reaches for him, and gathers up his clothes.

James doesn't wait, once the door is closed behind Q, to put his hand on his cock. Q's leaving is only a blip as far as his body is concerned, so primed is it for him to come. It would be better if Q could have stayed, if Q could have come with him, if he could have made Q come. But it's good anyway, hand on his cock wanking out his orgasm in just a few more strokes.

James lies in bed for a bit longer, enjoying the afterglow of his orgasm and trying to figure out where they went wrong with Q's.

He doesn't have any answers by the time he leaves the bedroom.

Q's stiff and unmoving on the sofa again. James doesn't avoid him this time, bends over him to kiss the side of his neck.

Q doesn't move away, but he doesn't exactly lean into it either.

James leaves it there for now, but he's not one to admit defeat so easily.

*

James tries again on Tuesday, when Q comes home from MI6 at a reasonable hour.

"Dinner?" James asks.

Q leans in to kiss his cheek. "What did you have in mind?"

James puts his hand on Q's cheek and holds him close for a longer kiss. "Pasta? I'll cook."

Q smiles at him. "I'll open the wine." It's their usual division of labor in the kitchen, and it feels familiar, like it was before.

Q pours them both glasses of an excellent merlot, and James chops vegetables to throw into a quick sauce. James pours some of the wine into the pan with the tomatoes, gives it all a stir, and sips his wine while it cooks a bit. He puts his wine glass down after a moment, and crosses the kitchen to Q.

Q raises an eyebrow, and keeps hold of his wine.

James takes it for a challenge and stops just shy of touching Q. He leans in and brushes his lips up Q's neck, just enough to be a tease, not enough to really satisfy either of them. "How was your day, dear?"

Q tips his head back with his laugh, and James takes advantage of it to press firmer kisses over his bared throat.

"It was fine," Q says when his laugh dies down into a few chuckles. "Meetings and prototypes, you know."

"Mmm." James kisses his way up Q's jaw.

"All terribly boring." Q turns his head to mouth at James's jaw in turn. "How was yours?"

"Terribly boring," James says, "until a gorgeous man walked in." He pulls back and places a warm kiss on Q's lips, then winks at him and steps away to stir the sauce and start the pasta cooking.

The flirting over dinner leaves Q soft and relaxed, and it's in that mood that James kisses him again after he's done the washing up save the wine glasses they're still drinking from. He keeps them in the kitchen, despite the danger of distraction by the cats, and puts his hands on Q's hip and back as he kisses him and holds him close. They've done this before.

Like before, Q participates. Like before, they move together. Like before, James gets their cocks out.

He strokes Q a few times, getting him a little harder, before he wraps his hand around both of them. That's like before too, the two of them too hot for each other to bother taking off their clothes, getting off in the kitchen with just their cocks out.

Q adds his hand to the mix, so it's the two of them stroking both of them.

James nips at Q's jaw, sucks at his neck, licks into his mouth. He murmurs meaningless nothings, encouragements and praise and his own pleasure. It's getting him there, and Q's still hard, still meeting James's words with encouragements and pleased sounds of his own.

Q twists his wrist, rubs his fingers over James's cock just the way James likes. It's good. It's so good. And then it's enough, more than enough, and James comes all over both of them.

He takes a few gasping breaths until the most overwhelming part of it passes. Then he nudges Q's hand away from his cock and wraps both their hands, covered in James's come now, around Q's cock alone.

James kisses Q, delves deep into his mouth while he draws out his pleasure by moving both their hands on Q. He can do this as long as it takes, and it's good, feels good to be kissing Q and touching him.

Q stops him after a few minutes, hand over James's stilling his movement. He turns his mouth from James's, so James only catches his cheek with his kiss.

"It's not going to happen," Q says. His cock is already starting to go soft in James's grip. "I'm sorry."

James presses his lips to Q's cheek for a long moment. "I'm the one who should be sorry."

Q shakes his head, mouth tight. He turns away. There's a very loud rasp of his zip and then the water comes on as he washes his hands.

James sighs, does up his own zip, and joins Q at the sink to wash his own hands. "We'll get there," he says.

"Right," Q says. There's a catch in his voice, but he doesn't pull away when James puts an arm around him and kisses his temple.

*

James draws Q into the bedroom on Saturday.

"James, I'm not sure," Q says with the beginning of a frown on his face.

"You're tense." James rubs Q's shoulders. "Just a massage, sweetheart."

They've both done this one before, "just a massage" turning into giving in to how good it feels to touch each other. But it's gone other ways, as well, when "just a massage" really was just that.

Q relents, and lets James undress him slowly, with gentle touches that are the beginning of his massage.

James guides Q to lie down on the bed, and strips himself down to his pants. He settles himself on his knees straddling Q, and bends down to feather kisses across the back of Q's neck. "Just relax, sweetheart. Let me take care of you."

He pours massage oil into his hands, rubs them together to spread it around, and then puts his hands on Q.

Q's tense under him, untrusting, maybe, or wary.

"I've got you," James murmurs. He sweeps his hands over Q's skin, neck, shoulders, down his back, gentle at first, just a touch, just to remind Q that this is supposed to be for his pleasure.

Q relaxes little by little, and only when he's not holding himself quite so rigid does James use more pressure. He finds the places where Q is tense, the places that make him tense when James tries to touch them, and smooths them out. He digs into the tension in Q's shoulders with his thumbs, rubs out the tight muscles of his back, coaxes his calves into softness.

Putting his hands all over Q gets James hard. He holds himself up so Q doesn't have to know if he doesn't want that, if he wants it to stay just a massage.

James trails his hands up Q's legs, a softer touch now that Q's melted into the bed beneath him. He pauses with his hands on Q's arse, lovely and familiar in his hands.

"Sweetheart," he murmurs, hoping to gauge Q's interest in trying for something more.

Q doesn't answer, and James leans all the way down over him to look at his face, turned to the side and slack in sleep.

Not quite the result James was trying for.

It would be a waste not to do something about how he feels, even if Q's dead to the world. James shifts to the side, draws his pants down, and pours more oil into his hands. It feels lovely against the skin of his cock, and he strokes himself slowly at first, eyes ranging over Q's body. He'd like, very much, to be sliding his cock into Q's arse instead, but until that's a possibility, he'll do this, wank himself off looking at Q laid out beside him.

James bites down on his groan as he comes, and wipes his hands on his discarded pants. He turns on his side toward Q and drapes one arm across Q's back. Q's soft, even breathing lulls James into sleep with him.

*

On Sunday, Q sets his laptop aside, stands to stretch, and then resettles himself on the couch next to James.

James closes his book and puts his arm around Q. "Sweetheart."

Q nuzzles into his neck. "I like it when you call me that."

"Do you?" James turns toward him. "Sweetheart."

Q's lips quirk into a smile. "James." He mouths at James's neck, which sends tingles of feeling through James.

James keeps his hand resting lightly on Q's side and lets Q do what he want, which is to kiss up and down James's neck, and then start in on the buttons of his shirt. His hand rests for a moment on the mottled patch of burn scar on James's side.

"It's all right, sweetheart."

Q presses an open-mouthed kiss to James's chest, then pulls away. "Come to bed, James."

James stands with him, and catches him around the waist before he can go very far. "I like it when you say my name." He covers Q's smile with his own and kisses him gently, tenderly, before letting him go and following him to the bedroom.

James has an idea what Q is doing here, and he's proved right when Q insists on undressing him and pushing him down onto the bed. James leans back on his elbows, propping himself up so he can watch Q undress.

Q follows him down onto the bed, stretched out over him and kissing him. James lets himself fall back, so his hands are free to move over Q's body.

Q smiles at that, and rubs them together, and easy slide of cock against cock that has James fully hard in a few moments, and Q most of the way there.

"Would you let me suck you?" James asks.

Q groans and drags his cock all the way up James's body until he's kneeling over his face.

James opens easily to take Q's cock in, and sucks gently at first, then harder. He does the things he knows Q likes until Q is rocking slowly into him. James can take more, if Q wants, but then Q stops and draws away.

"Sweetheart," James says, voice rough, and Q shivers.

"I want to fuck you," Q says.

James's cock twitches. "Yes, sweetheart, whatever you want."

Q bends to kiss him. "I want you to want it too."

James holds Q to him, and thrusts his hips enough that Q can feel how much he wants it. "I promise you I do, sweetheart."

Q takes the lube and a condom out of the nightstand.

James spreads his legs apart to make room for Q between them.

Q teases at first, running slippery fingers over James's hole for a long, shivery minute before he pushes the first one into him. It's been an age since James has had anything in him, and it's strange for a moment before he adjusts to it, reminds himself that this is Q, that this is going to be so good.

The second one goes in easier, and Q stays there for a bit, stretching James, rubbing against his insides, getting him ready for more.

"Sweetheart," James growls when he can't take much more of this, "fuck me now."

Q presses a kiss to his hip with a grin, and pulls his fingers out of James to put on the condom. Then his cock is pressing into James, and it's been so long, too long, since he's been this connected to Q.

James pulls Q down and kisses him, something Q goes with eagerly. Q's tongue sweeps into his mouth, tasting him, taking him as thoroughly as his cock is.

James closes his eyes and lets Q take what he wants, lets him thrust gently into James for a bit before making it harder, taking him. The control, he thinks, Q taking control, that might work for Q. It's working for him. He doesn't dare touch himself, feels like he'll go off if he does and wants to let Q have this as long as he needs.

Time disappears while Q fucks him, gorgeous and strong over him and in him, arms straining when he holds himself up, body all angles against James when he lets himself come down onto him.

"Sweetheart," James murmurs after an age. "I'm so close." He's been close, but now he thinks he might come even if he doesn't touch himself.

"Do it," Q groans. "I want you to, James."

James wanks himself, two, three strokes while Q thrusts into him, and then he comes between them with a shout.

"Oh," Q says, breathless, "oh, James." He keeps going, and he keeps going, and it's a little uncomfortable, James too sensitive for it, but he doesn't stop him, wants Q to have this as much as he did.

Q slows, and then stops, and he presses his face to James's shoulder and swears quietly.

James puts his arms around him and holds him for a moment, until Q pulls away, pulls out of him, and takes the condom off of his softening cock.

"I thought that would work," Q says bleakly, not looking at him.

James sits up and carefully puts a hand on Q's shoulder, waiting to see if he's going to flinch away before pulling him close. "I did too." He presses his cheek to Q's. "We'll get it."

"Will we?"

Q's flat voice sends a chill through James that he does his best to shake off as he presses a kiss to Q's cheek.

*

James sets his book down on his lap and asks, "Are you wanking?"

Q looks up from his laptop at James's question. "At the moment?"

James gives that the speaking look it deserves. "In general."

"On occasion," Q says. "I still haven't been able to come." He's taking the conversation seriously, for all that he's still looking at James over the top of his laptop.

"Have you tried fingering yourself?" That's a nice thought. James resists the urge to touch himself in response to it.

"Too awkward," Q says. "Particularly given the risk-reward ratio."

James closes his book. "Perhaps I could give you a hand."

Q looks down at his laptop. Things truly are in dire straits when Q chooses his laptop over being fingered on a day off.

Then Q says, "Five minutes."

James pulls out his phone and ostentatiously sets a timer.

Q quirks a smile at him, and then turns all of his attention to his laptop. James is well aware of Q's tendency to get absorbed in his work and fully expects him to plead for more time after the timer goes off. To his surprise and delight, Q closes his laptop and sets it aside with thirty seconds still to go.

James snaps his book shut and sets it aside without looking away from Q. He stands and strides across the room. Q stands to meet him, and James only stops looking at him when he closes his eyes as they meet with a kiss.

There's probably still lube stashed in the living room from before, but James walks Q to the bedroom. Easier to avoid any awkwardness that might pull Q out of the experience if they're in a bed.

James gets them undressed with enough touching and kissing that they're both fully interested by the time James lays Q out on the bed.

James starts at Q's knees and mouths his way up. "Toss me the lube."

Q grumbles a bit, and stretches to get at the bedside table without moving out from under James's touch.

James admires the length of his body even as he keeps his mouth pressed to Q's skin. When Q hands him the lube, James takes Q's cock into his mouth as a reward.

Q gasps, and his hands flail for a moment before he rests them on James's head.

James hums around him to signal his approval, and opens the lube. He goes slow, wetting his fingers and circling them around Q's hole before he slides one in.

Q moans. "James."

James pulls off of Q's cock. "Does it feel good, sweetheart?"

"Yes." Q tugs at James's hair, not hard enough to hurt. "You know that."

James winks at him and pushes a second finger into him. With two he can stretch a little, and twist them until he finds the spot that makes Q moan every time James touches it.

James takes Q's cock into his mouth and matches the rhythm of his sucking to the rhythm of his fingers moving inside Q.

For his part, Q makes all manner of turned on noises, groans and gasps and moans and a mix of pleas and James's name, and shifts his legs restlessly. It's highly satisfying to be able to make him do that. James has to work to keep from rutting his hips against the bed by reminding himself that his goal is to make Q come.

When James's jaw starts to get sore, he changes tactics and licks at the head of Q's cock, brings his free hand up to stroke the shaft. "I think you should come on my face."

Q groans and shifts as if he's trying to get James's fingers more deeply into him. "I want- Please, James."

James lets go of Q's cock for a moment to put more lube on his fingers, and pushes a third one into Q.

Q lets out a harsh breath, then pushes into the touch.

James's hand is starting to cramp, and he stretches it as best he can with his fingers still inside Q. He strokes Q's cock, and it's so hard under his hand, wet at the tip every time James licks at him.

And then it isn't. It goes soft, and Q lets out a frustrated cry just short of a sob. "Shit!"

"Sweetheart?" James asks. He moves his fingers, just a small press of them inside Q.

"It's no good." Q tries to pull away.

James puts a hand on his hip to keep him in place and takes his fingers out slowly, gently.

"Shit, shit, shit. It's not going to fucking work." Q pulls all his limbs in, and rolls off the bed. He disappears into the bathroom with a slam of the door.

James sighs and grabs at a wipe from the bedside table to wipe down his hands. He lies back in bed and uses the hand he had around Q's cock to stroke his own. He's still hard, if not quite as close to coming as he was before Q went soft.

Q comes out of the bathroom while James is still wanking himself. He doesn't say anything about it, but his lips thin out into a flat line, and he gathers up his clothes and leaves the bedroom with a near slam of the bedroom door.

James finishes wanking himself, coming with a sigh, not as good as it would have been if he could have made Q come too.

He cleans himself up, puts on his clothes, and leaves the bedroom.

"I have things that need looking after at Six," Q says, which is a blatant lie as he had no plans to do anything about them before.

"Sweetheart," James tries.

It doesn't work. Q flashes him a dark look and leaves the flat.

James doesn't go after him. He reads, eats dinner, and goes to bed.

He wakes, of course, when Q comes home, and hears him murmuring to the cats, listens to him take off his clothes and go into the bathroom.

There isn't enough light for James to see Q when he comes to bed, but he can imagine something of his expression when Q gets into bed and stays as far from James as he can get. He has to know James is awake.

James lets him be and goes back to sleep.

*

James has breakfast started when Q wakes up in the morning. He leaves the eggs to go over to Q. "Good morning, sweetheart."

"Good morning." Q accepts James's kiss, lets it go on for a moment before he turns his head to the side, forehead pressed to James's cheek. "Is there tea?"

"Yes." James tries not to feel the loss as Q steps away from him.

Still, they eat breakfast together, and Q turns his face up when James kisses him before he leaves for MI6.

It seems to be an improvement, until James goes to Q Branch at lunch time only to be met by one of Q's staff who tells him, "I'm very sorry, 007, but the Quartermaster said he isn't to be disturbed for any reason."

James has lunch alone instead, and spends the afternoon in the gym and on the range. He swings by Q Branch before he leaves, only to have a different staff member repeat the same message.

James is alone in the flat trying to decide if he should keep waiting for Q or make dinner now when Q comes home. James can hear him talking to the cats before he comes through to the kitchen.

Q stops at the edge of the kitchen, even as the cats run ahead to nose at their food bowls. He holds up a bag. "I brought takeaway."

James turns away to get plates. When he turns back, he sets the plates on the counter and leans in to kiss Q's cheek.

Q turns into it and lets James kiss him softly. "James."

"Sweetheart."

Q closes his eyes and turns his head so his forehead rests against James's cheek.

James sighs. "All right, sweetheart." He dishes up their curries and they take them to the table to eat.

When they go to bed, Q gets into bed stiffly, as if he's unsure of his welcome.

James reaches across the space between them and pulls Q close, until they're curved together if not as tightly pressed as they have been in the past.

*

Things continue in that vein until the evening Q puts on a determined face after they've eaten and drags James into the bedroom, not that he's protesting.

Q goes to the bedside table and tosses both the lube and a condom at James.

James catches them. "Sweetheart?"

"No," Q says. He starts stripping. "Just fuck me."

That is one thing they haven't tried yet.

James sets the lube and condom on the bed and takes off his clothes. By the time he's done, Q is stretched out on the bed, naked even of his glasses. He's not hard, but he has a hand around his prick, stroking himself with clenched jawed determination.

James puts his hand on Q's thigh. "You know this is supposed to be fun."

"Get on with it," Q snaps.

James doesn't. He strokes his hands over Q's thighs, up over his chest, brushes over his nipples. He waits until Q's cock is wholly hard and his demeanor softened before he pours lube onto his fingers.

He fingers Q a little faster than the last time. He doesn't want to remind Q too much of what happened then. He stops when Q nudges him with a knee and says, "Get up here and fuck me."

James chuckles and takes his fingers out of Q. He puts on the condom and crawls his way up over Q.

"Fuck me," Q demands.

James looks down at him, and the determination on his face and the tension in his muscles, and rolls to the side. "Perhaps not quite like that."

"James," Q says through gritted teeth. "I want you to fuck me."

James strokes Q's cheek. "And I will, but not like that."

"Why not?" Q juts his chin out.

"Because you looked terrified. I don't want to remind you of the way they hurt you."

Q sits up and glares at him. "I've always liked it when you hold me down and fuck me."

James sits up as well. "Me too, but, sweetheart, you're not ready for that."

Q's cock has gone soft, and he trembles, but his voice is firm and cold when he says, "Get out."

"Sweetheart," James tries to cajole him.

Q folds his arms across his arms for good measure. "Get out."

James scoops up a pair of pajama bottoms on his way out of the room. He'll leave the bed and the bedroom, but not the flat. He closes the bedroom door behind him with a soft click, bins the condom and beds down on the sofa.

He wakes up to Q standing next to it. He has Whiskers in his arms, which means it's Fluffy asleep on James's calves.

"Q?"

"I had a nightmare."

James starts to sit up. "All right, let's-"

Q shakes his head. "No." He lets Whiskers down to the floor, and James adjusts to make space for him as Q joins him on the couch. They dislodge Fluffy, who jumps to the floor with an irritated meow.

James wakes up before Q in the morning. Both cats are tucked onto the sofa with them, one sleeping on James where he lies between Q and the back of the sofa, one of them on their feet.

James can feel it when Q wakes up, the sudden tension in his body. James rubs his back, and Q settles with a sigh.

"I want to want you to hold me down and fuck me," Q says after a bit.

"You need time," James says.

Q props himself up enough to meet James's eyes. "How often have you gotten injured and gone right back out into the field?"

James can remember quite a few of those. "I didn't have a choice," he says. He cups Q's cheek. "Time to heal is a luxury."

There's still a dark look in Q's eyes. "What if I run out of time?"

James can feel it too, the way what happened to Q is running them down. He doesn't have an answer.

*

Eve finds him on the roof of the new building, staring out over London while rain drizzles down on him. Eve has an umbrella, which she holds over both of them when she stands next to him.

"All right there, James?"

James turns a smile he doesn't wholly feel on her. "Yes."

The slight tightening around Eve's eyes suggests she doesn't believe him, but she takes him at his word anyway and says, "He's ready for you."

James follows her into the building and down to M's office.

"You've been cleared for duty," M says.

"Very good, sir."

M hands over a file. "Do try not to end up in Medical this time."

James quirks half a smile at him. "I'll try not to, sir."

Q makes the same demand with less irony when James reports to him for his equipment.

"I'll make every effort not to," James tells Q, with much more sincerity than he'd made a similar remark to M.

*

James approaches the target by settling into a chair across a poker table from him. The target raises an eyebrow, and proceeds to ignore him. This is not unexpected. Neither is the encounter in the alleyway with the target's lieutenant afterwards.

James has a cut in his lip and one over his eye dripping blood down his face.

There's a woman at the sink when he enters the back room of the bar. She turns, startled, when he lets the door close behind him. She looks scared, then wary, then sympathetic.

"Gus?" she asks.

"Yes." James steps forward as she runs a towel under the water.

The woman cleans his face, her hands gentle. She presses a bandage over the cut over his eye. "There." She looks up at him from under her eyelashes.

"Thank you," James says, with a leading pause to ask for her name.

"Lucia."

Gus's mistress. She was in the files James read as background for his mission.

"And you are?"

"Bond, James Bond."

There's the slightest flush across her cheeks. "You should be on your way, Mr. Bond."

James puts his hand to her cheek to feel the heat of it. "You should join me."

She dips her head away from him. "Gus-"

James strokes her cheek with his thumb. "Gus won't ask for you you tonight." He tips her face up to his and takes a kiss, then takes her to his hotel.

James is gentle with her, and she responds to his every touch. He slips her dress off just inside the door, her bra halfway across the room, her panties when he lays her out on the bed.

She says a breathy, "Oh, Mr. Bond," when he runs his fingers lightly across her.

"Call me James." James strips off his own clothes and joins her on the bed.

"James," she says, voice half cut off by a gasp when he strokes his fingers gently down her body, shoulder to breast to navel to hips. "Oh, let me." She reaches for him, and he lets her touch him, but only so long as he keeps touching her.

Her skin is soft under his hands, and she trembles under his touch when he cups her breast, when he leans down to lick softly across her nipples.

"Do you like that?" The question is unnecessary, but he likes the way she flushes when he asks.

"Yes." She cards her fingers through his hair, rests one hand between his shoulderblades. "You don't have to."

James smiles against her skin and kisses the curve of her breast. "I want to."

He stays gentle with her, running his lips and fingers over her breasts, her stomach, hips, thighs, until she's flushed and gasping with pleasure, until his fingers come away wet when he slips them between her thighs.

James rolls on a condom and pushes easily into her. She clings to him and rolls her hips in time with his thrusts. It's not the best position for it, but James puts his fingers on her clit. He touches her lightly at first, harder when she moves into the touch.

He can tell when she's getting close, the dazed look in her eyes and the way she moans every time he touches her just right.

"You're lovely," he murmurs into her ear. "So beautiful, Lucia."

He makes her come. He makes her come with his cock in her and his hands on her and his words washing over her. 

Relief hits him like a punch to the gut, and it's that as much as the feeling from thrusting into her that makes him come.

James bins the condom and curls around her in bed. She's still trembling, and her eyes are wet with tears.

"It isn't like that with him," she confesses with her face buried in his chest. "You make me feel so safe. I didn't even have to fake it."

"Shh." James strokes her hair. "You're safe. You're safe with me." His comfort turns, in time, to kisses and caresses, and they come again, moving together.

James leaves her with Felix's number and takes out Gus as well as the target.

*

Q is unfailingly polite when James returns his remaining equipment to Q Branch. James matches his tone, and waits until later, when Q comes home, to greet Q with a kiss.

Q, for his part, returns the kiss, then holds himself stiffly when James nuzzles into his neck. "James?"

"I missed you." James keeps his arms tight around Q and breathes in the scent of his skin. "Didn't you miss me?"

"I missed the reprieve from international incidents we get when you're home." Q's lips quirk up into a smile and he turns his head to kiss James. "You're like one of the cats."

James chuckles and pulls Q down onto the couch, where he can better continue his imitation of the cats. Q obligingly strokes James's hair.

"Is this your way of trying to get me into bed?" Q asks after a bit.

"No," James says. He tilts his head so he can see Q's face. "Did you want to go to bed?"

Q sighs. "Not particularly. Not for anything other than sleep."

James sits up and cups Q's cheek. "Dinner first?"

Q turns his face into James's touch. "Yes, please." He presses a kiss to the center of James's palm. "You're very good to me."

James pulls him close and presses their cheeks together. "You're worth being good to, sweetheart."

James makes dinner while Q curls up with the cats and his laptop. Q is yawning by the time they've finished eating. James doesn't mention it, but when he's finished cleaning up the kitchen, he sits next to Q and wraps an arm around his shoulders.

"Now I am trying to get you into bed." James kisses Q's temple. "But only to sleep."

Q lets out a tired chuckle. "That sounds good."

They curl together in bed.

"I didn't sleep much while you were gone," Q confesses in the dark.

James holds Q close. "I'm here now."

"Yes," Q says.

James listens to his shaky breath until it slows into sleep.

*

For all that neither of them mentions Lucia, there's something of her between them. James finds it easier, for a time, to indulge in soft affection with Q without feeling a pull toward sex. Q seems braced for something, and there's something dark in his eyes when James catches him looking.

It's not a state of affairs that can last. If James doesn't do something about it, it's likely to explode in the worst way.

James jerks himself off slowly one afternoon when he doesn't expect Q home anytime soon. That, too, helps him to be patient with Q. He thinks, as he moves his hand on his cock, about how good it was to make Lucia come, and about how much he misses having that with Q. He thinks, too, about what she said, and then, as his orgasm rolls over him, he connects it to the conversation he had with Dr. Taylor when the surveillance was turned off.

For one brief, wild moment after he comes, James wonders just how hard it would be to convince Q to fuck at MI6. Then he drops back to reality and considers how he can create the advantages of MI6 at home.

Q texts James late and says not to wait up for him, which is too bad. But if James can lie in wait for people he's supposed to kill, he can certainly wait the two days it takes before Q comes home at a reasonable hour after getting enough sleep the night before.

After dinner, James wraps his arm around Q's waist, kisses his neck, and says, "Come to bed with me." He kisses Q to forestall any protests, then adds, "Double-check the alarm for me."

Q stiffens. "Concerned about security?"

James kisses him again, slower this time. "Not in the slightest."

Q throws him a suspicious look, but he checks the alarm and the lock on the door.

James walks around the flat looking out of the windows before pulling the curtains closed. He glances at Q with every window to make sure he's paying attention. When the curtains are closed, he turns out lights and takes Q's hand to lead him to the bedroom.

James locks the bedroom door behind them, and then repeats the process of checking the windows while Q stands in the middle of the room and watches.

James joins Q in the middle of the room when they're safely closed in. He kisses Q, one hand sliding up into his hair to hold him close. With his other hand, he takes Q's phone out of his pocket.

Q raises his eyebrows when James holds it up to him.

James lets one side of his mouth curve up into a smile, then picks Q's security team out of the contact list and puts it on speaker.

"Sir?"

They both know Q's security team well enough to recognize Turner's voice even from just that one word.

"Report," Q says.

"All clear, sir."

"Thank you." Q disconnects the call before James can do it for him.

James silences Q's phone and puts it on the bedside table along with his own. Then he takes the Walther he didn't return to Q Branch out of his holster. He wraps his hand around the grip so Q can see it glow green, then puts it on the table with the grip facing the bed.

"What are you doing?" Q asks.

"Taking you to bed."

"Are the theatrics really necessary?" It's Q's cool, mission-focused tone. James will have to change that.

"Perhaps." James kisses his way down Q's neck. "I do want to be sure you're paying attention."

Q sighs and tips his head down to kiss James's temple, and then, when he moves into it, his mouth. "How could I not pay attention to you?"

James smirks at him and keeps his eyes on Q's as he draws down the zipper on Q's cardigan. He pushes it off of Q's shoulders and lets it fall to the floor. He continues to hold Q's gaze as he unbuttons Q's shirt and sends it to the floor as well. His eyes stay on Q's face when he switches to unbuttoning his own shirt, and he sees the way Q's eyes drop to roam over James's chest.

James tosses his shirt away and steps forward, his hands just above the waist of Q's trousers. Their chests brush together, skin on skin, and James can feel the breath Q takes in.

Q meets James's eyes. "Taking me to bed?" he asks, breathless for all that he just inhaled deeply.

James lets one corner of his mouth curl up. "Precisely." He slides his hands forward to unbutton Q's trousers. He can feel Q's quickening breath in the movement of his chest against James's.

James draws down the zip and pushes Q's trousers and pants down together. Q's not all the way hard yet, but he's getting there.

Q's hands move from where they've rested on James's back, down and around to the front of James's trousers. "Do I get to participate?"

James nuzzles the spot just behind Q's ear. "If you like."

James is fully hard. Q does nothing to keep from brushing against James's cock as he finishes undressing him. It's a tease, but a delicious one.

Q mouths at James's jaw. "Take me to bed." He strips off his socks as he steps out of the puddle of clothing around him.

James follows suit, and catches Q around the waist as he reaches the bed. "I have plans for you," he murmurs into Q's ear.

Q leans back against him, then his shoulders fold forward as if he's trying to curl in on himself. "What if I can't come?"

James kisses the side of Q's neck, soft and warm instead of seductive and hungry. "Don't think about that. Just think about how it feels."

James gets onto the bed, and makes himself comfortable sitting up against the headboard, a pillow cushioning his back and his legs spread to make space for Q.

Q raises his eyebrows, which James meets with a smile that shades into a smirk.

"Come here," James says, putting all of his seductive power into it.

Q crawls up the bed and crouches over James. He kisses James, licking deeply into his mouth. It's heated, and wet, and Q's hand closes over James's cock.

James lets Q stroke him a few times before he wraps his hand around Q's wrist and draws his hand away.

"Not in your plan?" Q asks. "Perhaps you should improvise."

James chuckles, and then telegraphs his moves as he twists Q around, bodily moving him where he wants him to go. It puts Q's back against his chest, James's cock hard against Q's arse.

"James?" Q asks.

James hushes him and nuzzles his ear. "I just want you to feel, sweetheart. Don't think about anything else. Just how it feels." He runs his hands up and down Q's arms, no pressure behind it, just the slide of skin on skin.

James brings his hands in to run over Q's chest, down to his stomach, all the way down to trace at the crease of his thigh.

Q reaches back for him, and James catches his forearms to stop him.

"This is just for you," James murmurs. He puts Q's hands on his own thighs. "Touch yourself."

Q twists to give James a look. "You want me to touch myself."

James kisses him and rubs his cheek against Q's. "Yes." He rocks his hips, just enough for Q to feel him. "I'm enjoying it. I think you should as well."

Q gives him another suspicious look before settling against James's chest and starting to move his hands. He brushes them against his thighs, brings them up to his chest to tweak a nipple.

"That's it," James murmurs. He moves his hands in counterpoint to Q, runs his fingers along the crease of Q's thigh when Q touches his nipples, slides them up Q's chest when Q strokes the inside of his thighs, lightly strokes up Q's shoulders to his neck when Q's hands stray close to his cock.

It's working to make Q get all the way hard, and to get him involved deeply in it. He moves his hands with more purpose after a bit, touching himself in the places James knows he likes best.

James makes his own touch firmer, more purposeful. He keeps murmuring encouragement and endearments to Q, kisses his neck between them.

"Just like that," James says. "That's it, sweetheart. Feel how good it feels." He tweaks one of Q's nipples and nips his neck at the same time. "Just feel it. I'm here. My eyes are open. You can just relax and enjoy yourself."

Q's cock is fully hard. James goes close, but doesn't touch it, just keeps touching the rest of Q to make sure all he's doing is feeling.

"James," Q gasps, and he wraps one hand around himself.

"Yes, that's it." James stops touching Q with one hand to get the lube from the bedside table. He takes Q's hand off his cock to pour lube into it, then puts it back. "Touch yourself, sweetheart."

Q does, strokes himself slowly with that hand while the other rests on his thigh. He tips his head onto James's shoulder. "It feels so good."

"Good." James nuzzles against Q's cheek, uses one hand to turn Q toward him far enough to kiss. They're shallow kisses, between Q's gasps, and James lets him go after a few of them, just enough of them so they can taste each other.

Q rests his head on James's shoulder and keeps touching himself. He moves his hand faster, and James can see him squeezing tighter.

"I want you to feel good." James wraps one hand around Q's, so they're stroking his cock together. "That's it, sweetheart. You're safe. You just think about how good it feels."

"James," Q says on a moan. He twists his hand, moves it faster, faster.

James does his best to stay relaxed, keep Q from thinking that there might be anything to worry about. He murmurs encouragements, wanks Q with him, touches him with his other hand.

"Oh," Q says, a small, surprised sound. "Oh, I think-" And then he comes, crying out as he spills over their hands.

It's the best kind of triumph.

Q slumps against James, breath heaving, for a moment. Then he rolls up onto his knees and turns around. "I came," he says.

James lets his smirk turn into a broad grin. "You did."

Q laughs, and then he crashes into James. He flings his arms around James and kisses him, messy, sliding kisses between his laugh. "I came. You made me come." His laughter dies down, and he kisses James gently, deeply. "You made me come."

"Yes," James says, "I did."

Q laughs again, and then wraps his hand, the one still wet with lube and come, around James's cock. "You deserve every bit of that smugness."

James certainly agrees.

Q kisses him as he wanks him, their mouths only parting so they can breathe. Q brings him off quickly, easily.

James uses a tissue from the bedside table to clean them up enough that the stickiness won't be unpleasant. He tosses it in the bin, and Q puts his glasses on the table.

"The theatrics," Q says when they're wrapped around each other lying in bed. "You thought they were necessary."

"I did," James confirms.

There's a long moment of silence before Q sighs. "Tell me why?"

"I thought if you felt safe, you might be able to come."

Q sighs again. "I suppose you were right."

"Cheer up," James says. "Now that we know, we can experiment and improve upon the process." He kisses Q, a soft, gentle thing. "We'll work up to me holding you down and fucking you."

*

After six months of consistently good sex, James comes home from a short assignment to find Q looking pale and tired. He runs his thumbs along the dark circles under Q's eyes. "Sweetheart."

Q blinks at him, then catches one of James's hands in his own. "No, it's not." He turns his face and kisses James's palm. "It was just work. I was hacking for 004."

James puts his arms around Q and pulls him in close.

Q turns his head to rest his cheek against James's shoulder. "Really, that's all it was. I'm exhausted, but too wired to sleep." He pulls back a little. "Did you set the alarm?"

James raises his eyebrows. "Yes." That check usually signals they're about to have some fun - it still has to be set, but Q doesn't have to be the one to do it - but he's not sure Q is quite up for that.

"Good," Q says, "then come hold me down and fuck me until I can sleep."

Maybe Q is up for it. James pulls him close and kisses down his neck. "Anything you want, sweetheart."

Q tips his head for more of James's kisses, then grabs at James to kiss him deeply. "I want you to take me to bed."

James smirks and starts to walk Q in that direction. "Do you?"

"Yes." Q strips off his cardigan and lets it fall to the floor. "You'd better not disappoint me."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Q's shirt follows the cardigan to the floor, and they pause at the bedroom doorway for Q to push down and step out of his trousers. James generally likes to participate in getting Q undressed, but he's enjoying the striptease and doesn't interfere.

Q's pants are the last to go, just before he climbs onto the bed. He settles down on his hands and knees. "Get to it, James," he says as crisply as he might speak to James over the comms.

"What if I'd like to enjoy the view a bit first?" James loosens his tie and tosses his jacket to drape over the chair in the corner. His Walther still goes on the nightstand, but in its holster and not right at the edge.

"Then I might take matters into my own hands."

James slaps Q's arse, more sound than anything else. "As much as I'd enjoy that, I believe you asked for something else." He takes the lube out of the nightstand and drops it onto the bed. He stays in Q's line of sight while he rolls up his sleeves. His cock is almost fully hard, and the way it pushes against his trousers is also in Q's line of sight.

Q lets out a moan. "Stop teasing me, James."

James bends over to kiss him. "I'm not, sweetheart." He picks up the lube and moves behind Q. He opens the lube as quietly as he can and pours it onto his fingers.

The arch of Q's spine dips when James runs his finger around Q's entrance, and he positively sags when James presses that same finger into him. It's very satisfying.

James kisses the dip above Q's tailbone. "You look positively lovely, sweetheart."

"James," Q says, voice strained, "get on with it."

James chuckles, turns his kiss into a bite, and follows orders. He presses a second finger into Q, maybe too fast but Q's arching into it and James adds more lube. He stretches Q a bit with two fingers, twisting them as Q moans.

"That's it, sweetheart." James thrusts his fingers in and out, angles them differently and gets Q to let out a cry.

"That's enough," Q says. "Just fuck me already."

James stills his hand. "I don't want to hurt you."

Q shoves back onto James's fingers. "I fucked myself with a dildo while you were gone. The green one."

James's hips jerk against air. "That you'll have to show me later." He stretches his fingers a little more, pours more lube between them. He bites Q's arse, just a little nip, and pulls his fingers out.

It takes a moment to unzip his trousers and push them down, another to lean over Q to get a condom from the nightstand. He strokes himself for a moment after, just looking at Q on his hands and knees for him.

"James." Q makes it a moan and a plea.

James runs his hand down Q's flank. "You'll get what you want, sweetheart."

He settles himself behind Q, and pushes in slowly. Dildo or not, he's not going to hurt Q.

Q lets out a wordless moan, and pushes his hips back to help.

James folds over Q when he's all the way in him, still for a moment. "All right, sweetheart?"

"Yes." Q twists his head to kiss him. "Please, James."

James kisses his cheek, his neck. Then he puts his hands over Q's, pinning them to the bed. There's a moment where he thinks it could go either way. Then Q moans and goes lax under him.

James feels a flare of triumph, that they got here, that he gets to do this to and with Q again. He sets up a steady rhythm with his hips, short, sharp thrusts that don't let Q go anywhere.

Q's head dips toward the bed, pulling more of his weight down, another thing keeping him in place. He gasps and moans and cries out with James's thrusts. He pushes into James's hands and hips as much as he can, and moans when it does nothing to change James's movements.

James keeps going at the same steady pace as long as he can, until his body won't let him anymore. Then he starts moving faster, and he pulls Q's wrists up and together so he can hold them with one hand.

"James," Q gets out.

James puts his hand on Q's cock, and Q's moans no longer have words in them. He strokes, hard and rough, out of rhythm with his hips. He squeezes the hand on Q's wrists.

"Sweetheart," he gasps, "this is too good to last much longer."

The noise Q makes is something like a whine, and he rocks his hips just the tiniest bit James will allow him between his prick in Q's arse and his hand on Q's prick.

Q comes with a shout, and then goes nearly boneless.

James holds him up by the hips with one hand, the other still on Q's wrists, and fucks into him hard and fast until he comes. It's so intense it blots out every other sensation.

Q slumps all the way down onto the bed when James pulls out of him. James bins the condom before tending to him.

"Sweetheart," he murmurs.

Q turns his head to the side and cracks one eye open. "Let me sleep. That was the point."

James chuckles. "Oh, that was it, was it?" He kisses Q, the tenderness he feels for him almost unbearable. "All right, then, sweetheart. Get some sleep."


End file.
